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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26437150">Jackal's Ladder (and climbing my way to you)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wordpainter15/pseuds/Wordpainter15'>Wordpainter15</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>WordPainter's Owlets [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Owl House (Cartoon)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Boscha-centric, But there isn't any in the story, Character study surrounded by plot, Depression, Destructive Behavior, Digital Art, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Flower Symbolism, Future Fic, It is talked about, Its teenager Boscha mad about everything, Just a girl who needs some affection and a therapist, Mental Health Issues, Near Future, Not Beta Read, Nothing very dark, People assume self-harm and suicidal thoughts, Redemption, Romance is the b-plot, Self-Hatred, Self-Reflection, Serious, Swearing, They're not really enemies anymore, Vinira for the people, We're getting her healthy first, a lot of swearing, i am my own beta, kind of</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 04:41:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>18,566</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26437150</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wordpainter15/pseuds/Wordpainter15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Reflection, acceptance, and forgiveness as I climb my way to you...</p><p>Boscha isn't a good person. She knows that.<br/>After being stuck with Boscha for weeks, Willow is starting to think otherwise, but she can't help someone who doesn't want to accept it.<br/>They'll figure it out.</p><p>*Completed! Ch. 9 is post-production notes and art!*</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Amity Blight &amp; Boscha, Amity Blight/Luz Noceda, Boscha &amp; Willow Park, Boscha/Willow Park, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Vinira mentioned via Penstagram</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>WordPainter's Owlets [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1921702</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>173</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>589</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Aconite</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>CW: I'm labeling this at T, but there are references to self-harm and suicidal thoughts. Nothing is committed in the story, but due to Boscha's depression, people do assume the worst and confront her about it. Most responses I receive say that the T tag if fine, but I'm leaving this content warning in case anyone is sensitive to these topics.</p><p>New story! Flower symbolism and everyone's favorite bully. I must admit I didn't get the hype much and I definitely was suspicious of a bully and their victim as someone who has seen the mental effects of exessive bullying and what it can lead to. But I also believe in second chances and bettering oneself, bullies are typically victims themselves. So here I am.</p><p>Side note: Jackal's Ladder is the demons' realm equivalent of Jacob's Ladder with a slightly changed symbolism and biology to fit the fic. The other flowers mentioned are the same as the human world, symbolism and all</p><p>Also this is more serious than Illusory and Reviere so please don't expect/compare it to that</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Aconite is a flower that goes by many names. It is also known as Monkshood, wolfbane, and Devil's hamlet, just to name a few. It is known for poisoning, it's main use in the Savage Ages. Modernly, it is a flower only used for decoration. A beautiful blue bloom with curling petals, this poisonous plant makes even more lethal potions. It warns people to be cautious. It is also seen as a symbol of hatred. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <b>                                                                         Back to the Roots: A Physical and Spiritual Guide to the Flora of the Boiling Isles</b>
  </em>
</p><p>Boscha knows she’s not a good person. She’s known it for a long time, years even. As far back to when she still chased around losers and ridiculed them all day just to try to make herself feel better. She's a rich brat. A bitch. A witch with a tongue more deadly than her spells, not that her spells were terrible either. Boscha knows she’s a shitty person. She just keeps it to herself more because, as much as she hates herself, she’s sick of making others hate her too. It’s not anybody else’s fault that she is a piece of garbage. She always came down from the high it gave her with a vicious crash. One that left her burned and seething worse than any curse that could be cast- Boscha isn’t stupid enough not to see that the costs outweigh the benefits.</p><p>Skara is blabbering about something. Her boyfriend or her barely passing math grade, she’s mentioned both in the past five minutes and Boscha is just too tired to keep up. Her caffeine boost is wearing off and she does not have energy to waste on Skara’s daily dilemma. Instead, she scrolls through Penstagram, checking her like count on her last post and glancing through everyone’s feed. </p><p>Emira’s anniversary with Viney is coming up. Boscha can tell because her personal-personal account (the one she blocks from her parents) is flooded with couple pictures and disgustingly cute captions. Although Viney’s expression is making it look like she’s one picture away from declaring them both single. Amity has pictures from her last grudgby game- she’s made her way onto a small, private league outside of the school circuit. Luz’s back is covering half the picture and Amity is struggling to take the photo and hold her girlfriend at the same time. She moves past the Blights, half wondering why she still follows Amity’s gay ass once they split off two years ago. Amity looks a moment away from punching her in the face every time she sees Boscha. Like the puppy picture, scoff at Edric’s idiocy, and scroll through countless images of smiling faces and good times.</p><p>Boscha scroll snaps closed. She’s getting sick of Penstagram. </p><p>The bell is screaming anyway. It graciously shuts up Skara, who chirps a farewell and bounces off to her next class across the school. Another morning at Hexside is starting. Boscha bangs her locker open, hisses back when it hisses at her, and scoffs when it whimpers. She drags her books out. The hallways are getting loud. People talking so fast that their mouths will fall off as they cram in what little socialization they can before the first period begins. Someone screams in her ear and Boscha hisses straight in their face. Her three eyes fixate on the paling face of some nobody underclassman and she ignores the stammered out apology. With a clash of its teeth, Boscha closes her locker and spins in her boots. Time to finish another day.</p><p>Boscha doesn’t give people shit anymore- at least not like she used to. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t follow her around like the reek of death on a reanimated carcas. People fear her and she’s fine with that- less people to annoy the magic right out of her. She can only hold so much blame when people just won’t fucking leave her alone. People know what kind of person she is. It’s not her fault if they disregard the warning label. Don’t blame the jackal for biting you if you stick your nose in its face.</p><p>Her first class is her advanced hexmonics class where she’s stuck dealing with that dumbass human and her idiot brigade. They’re everything she hates rolled into one group: loud, annoying, and disgustingly close. Boscha is pretty sure they coordinate outfits for their Moonlight Conjurings. Gross. She’s stuck sitting behind them because sitting any farther back meant not being able to read the dumb board. They’re quiet whenever she passes them, little mice quaking when the cat prowls by. Boscha is still a predator, but it’s not like she has much bite to her left. Her fangs prefer to dig themselves into her own flesh, burrow into her mind like they are the masters and not the servants. </p><p>Half a Witch is ironically the least scared of her. Maybe it’s because even half a witch like her is still more magically competent than a human and more physically competent than that twig of an illusionist that tags along with them. It’s kind of pathetic, but Boscha guesses even freaks have some friends.</p><p>Boscha loses in that regard. She doubts she knows anybody who'd come find her when it rains.</p><p>When she glances at them with her third eye, the one she can move without her central eyes following suit, Willow is watching her. Boscha tilts her head and glares. The plant witch tenses up, shoulders stiff and head jerking straight back toward the board. Good… Boscha doesn’t like people looking at her. Boscha doesn’t like looking at herself. No filters or editing is able to hide what everyone already knows.</p><p>Amity is at the door when class ends. Picking up Luz for one of their shared classes. Apparently they have a presentation in their abomination class. Not that Boscha cares, it’s just that Luz isn’t exactly silent and blabbered about it all class. It’s Amity, little miss perfect, Boscha knows she’ll get an A even with her girlfriend handicapping her. Boscha waits behind them because they’re blocking the entire door.</p><p>“Can you fucking move? Some of us have places to be.”</p><p>It causes Amity to puff up and Boscha to roll her eyes. As if she’d ever be scared of someone who fangirls over a kid’s series. Amity lost any edge she had in the school the day Luz showed up in an otter costume for a school dance and the Blight turned bright red and couldn’t speak the rest of the night. Funny? Extremely and immortalized on Penstagram forever. Still pathetic and still as unthreatening as a baby griffin. What's she going to do? Turn so red that Boscha dies from the secondhand embarrassment? </p><p>“Oh fuck off, Blight. As if you are threatening to anyone. Now move,” Boscha spits and pushes past the illusionist. Willow and Luz immediately step to the side, Luz tugging on Amity’s arm to try to get her out of the way. Amity only glares at her and crosses her arms. Really? Were they really doing this? Boscha might not be top student, but she can throw down in a fight. Everyone knows that.</p><p>“Ami, come on. It’s not worth fighting over,” Luz pleads and tugs her girlfriend harder. “We go to go anyway.”</p><p>“Yeah, alright,” Amity grumbles and backs down. She throws one arm over Luz’s waist and steps aside. She eyes Boscha as she passes her. “Don’t mess with them Boscha or you’ll be dealing with me.”</p><p>“I haven’t touched your precious girlfriend or any of her nerdy friends in years, Blight,” Boscha snarks as she pulls her books closer to her chest. “Weren’t you the one to tell me to grow up? I have better things to do than mess with your idiot brigade… What are you staring at Half a Witch?” Boscha hisses and Willow looks away, fiddling with her wire rims. </p><p>A pang of guilt burrows into her chest like a thorn. Why it still hurts? Boscha doesn't know. Maybe she's addicted to it. Maybe her body is punishing her for being a terrible person. Even if it's not her fault she's as friendly as a rabid animal. She doesn't <em>do</em> friendship. It's not like she's happy, but it's less tiring to not have to fake crap to impress anyone. Can't feel happy. Body is just giving her the next best thing. Showing her she's not completely numb, What's that saying? What doesn't kill you makes you stronger? Boscha's too stubborn to die, so she must just be strong as steel. At least she's got that going for her.</p><p>“Just get out of here Boscha,” Amity said tiredly.</p><p>Please, Amity has no reason to act like this to her anymore. Boscha hasn’t messed with them in ages. Barely even looks at them since Amity finally got her butt in gear and finally kissed her idiot human.</p><p>“Been trying to,” Boscha bites back as she finally leaves that Titan forsaken classroom. It’s not like she wanted to stick around. No reason to stay where you’re not wanted.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Self-destructive tendencies am I right??</p><p>Here's to hoping I don't screw up the symbolism because the internet is contradictory</p><p>I know it's short but it's set up. Even though this is 8 chapters I don't think the chapters will be very long. Who knows though, I suck at not writing too much. It could probably be condensed into 4 long chapters, but I like splitting it up like this better. Easier to make chapter titles</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Begonia</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Things go wrong and Boscha hates rain</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> Begonia flowers come in many colors and even petal shapes! Edible and beautiful, many don’t know of its sometimes contradictory meaning. Begonias are the flower equivalent of a worried friend- they symbolise dark thoughts that block one from their happiness and warnings about future misfortune. In the Savage Ages, they were bad omens and told witches to check in with loved ones. Presently, they exemplify reaching out to others and fostering peaceful relations. A wonderful bloom that has survived through many dark times. </em>
</p><p><b> <em>Back to the Roots: A Physical and Spiritual Guide to </em> </b> <b> <em>the Flora of the Boiling Iles</em> </b></p><p>Rain always meant a bad day. The minute Boscha is stuck indoors, she’s ready to tear her own skin off just to release the anger brewing under her skin. Rain blistered everything outside and rain boiled everything inside Boscha. Boscha really fucking hates rain. Especially when it starts during school and she can’t ditch class to chill out on the green near the grudgby field. By the Titan, Boscha hates this place.</p><p>Lunch has her pent up. People are noticing too. It’s hard not to when the simple act of accidentally making eye contact sends Boscha out for blood. She got reprimanded by the history teacher for making someone cry after they ran into her. Normally, she’d get away with it. The history teacher is the biggest pushover when it comes to the grudgby team. He worships the ground they walk on. Probably living voraciously through the student athletes because he never made it up from benchwarmer. He’s a history teacher for a reason. What a loser. </p><p>Anyway, Boscha normally can get away with yelling at idiots who run into her, but the Banshees lost the semi-finals this season. Costing the school its streak. Not that Boscha could do anything about it! It’s not her fault one of her players got hurt in practice and they had to throw in some green back up who couldn’t listen to any directions. The team lost a humiliating defeat to fucking <em> Glandus</em>. Team captain is a burden to bear- nobody likes a loser.</p><p>So between the rain and getting out of detention by the skin of her teeth purely because that newt is still too much of a fanboy to actually punish her, Boscha is ready to pop. Skara looks ready to ask her about it. She’s been twirling her straw around in her mouth for too long. That dumb over-thinking look on her face. Skara spits out her straw with an obnoxious pop. Boscha throws the hand not holding her scroll up.</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“You look like you want to say something,” Skara counters and flinches when all three eyes twist to stare at her.</p><p>“I do. It’s shut up and leave me alone.”</p><p>The bard student huffs, but does as she’s told. Nobody messes with Boscha when she’s like this. The rain continues to pelt outside. Plopping off the magic barrier with loud thuds and burning the ground around it. There’s nothing good that comes from rain. It just burns every living thing in its path. Nobody likes boiling rain. Boscha hates rain because it reminds her of herself. Nothing but a fucking natural disaster.</p><p>It just keeps raining and Boscha just keeps feeling worse. A headache is blooming in the front of her skull and her magic writhes under her skin. She’s ready to boil over. Buds of dried chamomile are thrown into the cauldron. Her fire magic increases the heat, the potion bubbling with the flame. Boscha doesn’t mind potions. She’s good at them- hence why she’s in the potions track. At least she’s <em>supposed </em>to be good. This is meant to be a destresser potion. Their teacher is all about making potions with positive side effects because of media and violence and blah blah blah. Nothing that Boscha hasn’t heard a million times before. The witch grips the cauldron with a heavy force, nails bending against its cast-iron siding. Everyone else in the class is happily stirring away. Spoons gliding through luminous amber liquid with the smell of chamomile and magic wafting through the air. Boscha scrunches her nose and throws another handful of buds in.</p><p>She’s meant to be good at potions, but this damn potion smells like nothing and is just making her anger rise. She sweeps what buds she has left into the cauldron. Throws in lavender and turns up the heat until the only thing she smells is burning plants. Her teacher scolds her and tells her the flame is too high and the smell overwhelming. Boscha grits her teeth, pours out the batch, and tries again. She follows the recipe to the letter and looks away at her teacher’s nod of approval. There’s no satisfaction in her work- it all still smells like nothing and she still doesn’t feel any better. If anything her headache is worse from the fumes.</p><p>It’s the end of the day and it’s still raining. Which means nobody can go home unless a parent comes to get them, they're a senior, or the rain stops. Thus, Boscha is stuck there because her parents haven’t picked her up from school since kindergarten and she’s one year off from her last year in this hell hole. Her locker snaps closed and the witch takes her notebooks to the library. It’ll probably be quiet and maybe she can get this done so she doesn’t have her mother on her ass about slipping grades. She’s already barely holding onto her B and she will get chewed and spat out if they drop any farther. Mother already hates her for coming in second to a Blight; to have her barely passing her potion classes is a death sentence after the grudgby failure ending the season. </p><p>Bosha tolerates after-school study sessions when there's barely anyone around. Better to sludge through homework in the library than to sit in her giant house and have staff bumbling around her. The halls are crowded, people chilling in whatever empty space is available. She shoves past people. Growls at people who dare snap at her and casts fire spells when they don’t take the hint. She turns into the plant wing, where the largest library is located, and rams into a solid body. They both go flying back and the magic circles swirling around Boscha’s fingertips glow violently with her snapping mood. Flames erupt around her. Burning through her vision and swathing her eyes with red.</p><p>“Willow!”</p><p>The burning subsides. All that remains is the charred floor, broken ceramic, and two witches glaring at each other. Luz comes barreling into Willow, wrapping her hands around the witch’s wrists to pull her up. Willow stands, glassy eyes staring at the scarred remains at whatever it is she had been holding. The girl steadies her breathing as she watches Boscha stand, Willow’s shoulders shake with restrained tears.</p><p>“What the spell, Boscha!”</p><p>“It’s not my fault, Half a Witch! You’re the one who ran into me!”</p><p>“You’re the one with an active fire spell! That flower was important,” Willow exclaims as she bends down and tries to rejuvenate the bloom. It remains withered and curled up, petals crisped and a dead, dull purple. “You killed it!”</p><p>“It’s just a weed. Can’t you get another?”</p><p>“This is an incredibly rare flower that my grandmother gave me! It’s been in my family for years and you destroyed it!”</p><p>“What is going on here?” A harsh voice breaks the shouting and the three students turn to see one of the plant track’s teachers rushing out of the plant homeroom. “Oh, oh Willow,” the teacher murmurs at the sight of the destroyed flower.</p><p>“Boscha was running through here with a fire spell,” Luz snitches with a glare at Boscha. </p><p>Boscha feels her fingers twitch. She’ll cast a fire spell in the moron’s face. It’s not like she meant to ruin Half a Witch’s flower. But she’s always the bad guy. Guess she can add killer of plants and family heirlooms to the list.</p><p>“Your recklessness has created much grief, young witch. I am not the other teachers. You will be facing consequences for this.” The plant witch runs a magic circle over the carcass of the plant and shakes her head when it remains the same. “Such a rare and magical bloom… You, Boscha, are going to be assisting Willow in the plant homeroom for the rest of the month while I am away at the Plant Convention. I have entrusted Willow with taking care of the school’s flora and I expect you to pull your own weight.” The teacher rises from the ground, placing the ruined flower into Boscha’s hand. “Maybe it will teach you the value of what you have. Be here starting Friday afternoon, young lady.”</p><p>The teacher walks away, leaving three dumbstruck witches behind. Luz awkwardly leaves after her scroll starts tinging. Stuttering something about Amity and Willow waves her off. The plant witch eyes her ruined flower and just sighs, wipes away the tears on her cheeks, and returns to the plant room. </p><p>It’s just a dead flower. But it feels like a concrete block in Boscha hands. She wants to destroy it and the guilt gnawing at her chest. It’s what she’s good at. She can’t do it though, so she sticks it into her school bag to throw in her closet later. Just another skeleton to add to the collection.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And set up is done</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Coriander</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Willow shows Boscha the ins and out of gardening and gains a little hope that this month won't end up with one of them killing the other</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Mostly from Willow's pov because getting stuck in Boscha's self-hate can be tiring and I'm currently bulk writing this. At this time I've only posted chapter 1</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> Coriander is the white blooms of a cilantro plant. Although the leaves no longer hold their prior flavor, the coriander seeds are used as a spice in certain cultures. A plant of both love and hate; this medicinal plant was used in the Savage Ages to benefit the carnal side of love. Some find its smell repulsive, but it is often a key ingredient in many aromatic potions! With its plain bloom and rather basic to unappealing smell, coriander is the symbol of hidden worth. At first glance, one may write it off, but it has many potentials hidden in its bloom. </em>
</p><p><b> <em>Back to the Roots: A Physical and Spiritual Guide to</em> </b> <b> <em>the Flora of the Boiling Isles</em> </b></p><p>This is not how Willow wants to spend the next four weeks. Trapped with the meanest girl in school and having her workload worsen because now she has to deal with the witch's infamous bad attitude. But Willow must admit it's nice seeing Boscha get her just desserts for once. Boscha presents herself to the plant homeroom’s door twenty minutes after class ends. Considering that it’s a ten-minute walk going at a slug’s crawl, Willow assumed that she’d been ditched. When the other witch shows up, Willow is already lugging sacks of fertilizer to the troughs, lining up tools, and preparing her books for easy reference.</p><p>“I can just leave,” Boscha snarks from the doorway, and Willow flinches before looking up, letting the books fall to the table.</p><p>“Oh! Boscha, you’re here,” Willow states and regrets the way her voice wavers between surprise and disappointment because the witch’s eyes narrow in slits as she brushes into the room.</p><p>“Better than detention. Even if I’m stuck with<em> you</em>. Can’t trust you not to snitch, teacher’s pet.”</p><p>That’s… a new one. Better than half a witch, Willow supposes. She’d prefer not to get insulted, but you can never expect much from Boscha. Silence erupts between the two of them as Willow shuffles her books around and Boscha waits in the middle of the room. The pink witch stood out like a sore thumb. Boscha huffs angrily, by the Titan is the girl ever not angry? She stares Willow down.</p><p>“Well, since I’m forced to stay here at least give me something to do.”</p><p>“I mean you <em>can</em> leave,” Willow responds as she takes a deep breath. There’s no use being angry. Anger makes you volatile without making you feel better. Deep breaths, smell the lavender blooming in the sunlight. “But I will warn you that the plants see everything- literally.” The witch motions behind Boscha and the pink witch shrinks back at the plant blinking at her before it closes its petals. “I won’t say anything, but I can’t say they won’t.”</p><p>“I guess this is still better than detention.” It’s at least something she can hide from her parents with ease. Dirt stains are less obvious than the saliva of the detention creature. “So what am I doing, Half a Witch?”</p><p>Willow tries to give her easy things. Grunt work is mind-numbing, but it's the type of work that is least likely to lead to Willow having to pull Boscha out of a plant. It’s- not going great. First, she tasks Boscha with opening the fertilizer bags, hesitantly giving the witch the blade they use to rip at the burlap sacks. Boscha ends up ripping too hard and spilling pungent stacks of processed manure across the floor. Willow has Boscha fill up water buckets, telling her to leave them by the spigot and Willow will water everything once she’s done pruning. Boscha hisses at her that she’s not stupid and can water the plants herself. Willow sees her drowning a poor plant as she’s pulling deadheads off some of the flowers.</p><p>“Stop. Stop!” Willow frantically grabs the bucket and casts a spell circle over the flooded soil. The excess water pools in the air and drops back into the bucket.</p><p>“What?” Boscha whines at the frustrated look Willow gives her. “I’m watering your dumb weeds.”</p><p>“You’re drowning them!” Willow huffs as she casts a quick spell over the plants. The plant witch takes a steadying breath. “They all need specific care, Boscha. You can’t just do that.”</p><p>“It’s just fucking plants.”</p><p>Maybe Boscha should leave. Willow will be here until dusk if this is how the entire day is going to go. </p><p>“It’s not my fault I suck with your dumb flowers…”</p><p>Willow looks away from the flowers and finds Boscha not looking at her. The other witch is gripping the sleeves of her uniform, nails digging into the fabric. Her anger is rolling off her in waves and Willow can see the plants reacting. Their leaves are curling in, petals closing up… as if the sun just disappeared. Willow grabs Boscha’s wrist, tugs it from its iron grip on her arm, and drags the witch to a different trough. She lets go of Boscha’s arm.</p><p>“What the hell is this?”</p><p>“These,” Willow says as she rips out a piece of green to show Boscha. “Are actual weeds. Use that anger of yours to rip all these out of the planters. They’re stealing water and nutrients from the main plants and smothering any new wanted growth.”</p><p>“So the damn things are just as useless as I am in this damn room?” Boscha asks and eyes the weed with a little too much concentration. Her nails dig into her uniform again.</p><p>“Actually, no,” Willow answers and watches Boscha perk up curiously. “They just aren’t in the right place. We are going to throw these into the compost bin- where they’ll become fertilizer and help all these plants grow. Nothing is useless.” Willows implication makes Boscha scoff.</p><p>“Debatable,” Boscha counters as she kneels down and starts viciously pulling weeds out of the planter.</p><p>“Agree to disagree,” Willow responds with a small smile and returns to her work.</p><p>Maybe this can work after all.</p><p>The first week passes like this. Boscha pulling weeds and deadheads and snipping away with pruning scissors. She always does it with jerky actions and the flowers always recoil from her as if she was a tornado threatening to rip their roots from the dirt, but it becomes less violent every day.  Willow can smile about that. A less angry Boscha is a civil Boscha. Not a happy Boscha… Willow tries to remember the last time she saw a happy Boscha.</p><p>Halfway through the second week, Boscha is getting bored. There’s only so much pruning and weeding someone can do. Especially when it's every day of the Titan damn week. So when Willow starts bringing out an empty planter covered in glyphs and hauls it to the side of the room, Boscha gets curious. Boscha isn't complete dead weight, but she's still pretty useless in a greenhouse. Willow has to prep everything for her. Water amounts, fertilizer amounts, written instructions on harvesting the fruit of the trees, and always has to watch her near the larger flowers. It makes her feel like she's a kid again and somebody was always on her back for everything she dd. Willow's just making sure she doesn't get eaten- Bosch gets that. But it doesn't make her feel less like a child. She's not so much of a spoiled brat that she can't do simple tasks. She's not completely worthless. But she's destroyed a lot of things for Willow. Her dignity when they were younger and her plant just a few weeks ago- maybe Willow just doesn't trust her not to screw up. If that's it- Boscha can understand. She deserves that- she deserves a lot worse for the crap she did to Willow.</p><p>“What is that?”</p><p>“A planter,” Willow said with a smirk as she gently drops it to the ground. “Be useful and help me carry the soil bags over to it.”</p><p>“I know it’s a planter, dumbass,” Boscha hisses because she isn’t an idiot.</p><p>Willow stiffens under her load of soil. The burlap scraping her skin. It’s a standoff, a silent staring match that Boscha stops with a roll of her eyes. The potions witch drops her sneer and picks up a sack of soil.</p><p>“Don’t look like you’re about to cry. I’m sick of everyone thinking I’m stupid. I hear it enough at home. I know what a planter is.”</p><p>Boscha's been here for over a week and hasn't been poisoned yet. That has to count for something.</p><p>“I- I didn’t. I mean…” Willow stutters and drops the bag next to the planter. “I didn’t mean it like that. I was joking.”</p><p>“I guess we have different senses of humor,” Boscha declares sarcastically. “Don’t you remember? I think making people cry is the best time. I’m the bitch of Hesxide.”</p><p>“I don’t- I didn’t say…”</p><p>“Didn’t need to, Petals. I’m not stupid,” Boscha growls and drops her load at Willows feet. “Here’s your damn dirt.”</p><p>Boscha is ready to walk away when Willow grabs at her arm and drags her to the empty planner. Demons, this witch is way stronger than anyone gives her credit for. What the hell? How can she just drag the captain of the grudgby game, one of the most dangerous sports in the Boiling Isles around like a toy doll?</p><p>“Get your grubby hands off me!”</p><p>“Don’t be such a baby,” Willow commands and pulls the cloth bag hanging on her waist off. She pulls the tie keeping it closed and tiny, green pumpkins growing on tied up stems start falling out into her palm. “This is what the planter is for. The underclassmen start their Plant Care classes soon and are tasked with Vampire Pumpkins. These are Vampire Pumpkin starts that have been taken from a demon’s bog. Danger wise, they’re not as lethal as the Fly Snapper, the big one with the eyes, but they get nasty if you don’t take care of them. We’re starting them so that they can be given to the students once the month is over.”</p><p>“We? I’ll fuck it up. I’m a potions witch if you hadn’t realized,” Boscha reminds as Willow puts the starts back into her bag.</p><p>“You just said you weren’t stupid, didn’t you? I’ll be doing the magic, you just need to stick the pumpkin in the dirt.”</p><p>They fill the planter with soil and Boscha digs out holes based on the example Willow made her. Willow places the first pumpkin start into her hand and Boscha squirms at the life force she feels writhing under it. These damn things were loaded with magic.</p><p>“I see you feel it,” Willow smiles at Boscha’s scrunched up face and guides the other witch’s hands through the motion of planting the pumpkin. “Try to be gentle, okay? It’s a living creature after all.”</p><p>Boscha is gentle because she can feel the life pulsating through them. It makes her want to smile. Actually smile, not sneer or smirk, as she blankets each one gently. The planter glows as Willow applies magic to the glyphs. Growth spells apparently, to make sure they are big enough and hardy enough to pass off to inexperienced hands. Willow gives her a thumbs up when they’re done and says Boscha can go home for the day. Boscha sticks around- she wants to know what the pumpkins end up looking like.</p><p>“You did good,” Willow says as she’s locking up the room and they’re heading toward the exit. This is what they do now, walk out together. There’s no reason not to, they’re going in the same direction.</p><p>“I guess plants can be worth it if one of those things bites a freshman,” Boscha snorts out with a laugh.</p><p>Her chest feels lighter. Her mind is less numb at the thought of doing something productive. It was nice. Maybe plants aren't the <em>worst</em> thing to have to deal with. Boscha uses them in her potions all the time so this might actually put her ahead. She remembers the shriveled up plant in her closet and some advanced potion books that her teacher keeps nagging at her to try. Maybe she can fix one of her fuck ups.</p><p>Boscha comes to the room seething on Friday. She rips out all the weeds and a few actual plants. Kicks over empty water pails and is messy with the dirt. Willow frowns at the display.</p><p>“Something... wrong?” Willow asks tentatively. </p><p>“Why can’t any of you idiots take the fucking hint? If I wanted to talk, I’d talk,” Boscha hisses and spears the dirt with her trowel.</p><p>They work in silence for that day. Willow silently wonders what is wrong with Boscha, because when she’s not angry she’s civil. Snarky, judgemental, and defensive as a rabid animal… but civil. It was nice to see her… content? Not happy, but not looking like she was on a warpath. When Willow tries to coax her to work on the pumpkins, what Boscha is most interested in, the witch hisses at her and leaves early. Willow sighs as she works in silence. What’s she supposed to do? You can only poke a jackal so much, eventually it’s going to bite you.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I wanted to show more of Boscha's self-hate and self-destructive tendencies, but Boscha is mostly snide remarks and violent little actions. I think I did okay, considering this is Willow's pov and someone having mental health issues doesn't automatically mean they're screaming depression from every angle. Hope I did okay, this is all very much based on how I remember being an outsider to other's mental health issues and not knowing what I should really be doing</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Lavender</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Some things are just too good to be true</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm not putting a content warning up for self-harm in the tags because it doesn't actually happen in the story, but it is mentioned so please be aware!</p><p>Also if you noticed I always post at the same time. I post at midnight my time because it refreshes the date published and then I usually have comments to read on the morning 😅. Makes getting up for classes a little easier early for classes</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> Lavender is a staple in potions and healing for its calming properties. With an iconic bloom, lavender has been used for ages as a calming agent and was often given to lovers as a sign of devotion and sincerity. However, during the Savage Ages, there was an oral story that told of a traitor assassinating one who thought them a friend. The assassin hid in a lavender bush to hide their presence and ambushed their victim. Hence, lavender also holds a story that promotes distrust. </em>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>Back to the Roots: A Physical and Spiritual Guide to the Flora of the Boiling Isles</em> </b>
</p><p>Liquid goes flying, red soaring through the air and catching the moonlight that seeps into the cracks of the tiles of Boscha’s basement. The candles flicker as Boscha’s magic flares and the witch forces herself to reel herself in. If here parents got home to a burned down potions room, they’d remove her third eye. A vial smashes against the cauldron, glass shards biting into Boscha’s hand and she pulls back with a vicious curse. Shit, she didn’t mean to actually break it. The witch can hear her mother’s voice now. It’s what she deserves for being a dumbass.</p><p>Boscha picks the shards out of her hand and throws it in the hazards bin with the rest of the broken vial. A wave of her hand dispels the fire spell and the witch rightens the cauldron from its toppled position. She leaves her supplies and the mess littering the room. It’s not as if they can’t get more and eventually someone will come in to clean up. Yeah it’s Boscha’s job to clean up her own potion messes, but no one wants to hear her father screaming bloody murder about any part of the house being in disarray. Besides, Boscha just can’t deal with it. She’s spent a week working on this vitalization potion and the constant lack of results is driving her up the wall.</p><p>The failed potion mocks her as it oozes along the tile and seeps into her shoes. Boscha sweeps the damned advanced potionology book into the mess. Her snarl deepens, curling her lips up and away from her fangs. Soggy sounds break the static of crackling flames as Boscha kicks away the drip device and gently cradles Willow’s dead flower in her hands. She walks back upstairs with it and sticks it back into the closest in an old shoebox. The witch screams out the door for someone to fix the potions’ room and slams her bedroom shut. Boscha wraps her hand. Jerks the scissors to cut the bandages and slams them into the drawer of her desk. Her skin is boiling, teeth digging into her lip and pinching the nerves there. Nails dig into the closest object, the pliable body of one of her pillows. Pillows are thrown- slamming into walls and decorations. Everything dropping to the ground with a vicious crash. A gurgling scream echoes off the walls.</p><p>Why won’t the world even let her fix this one mistake? Isn’t that what good people do? Fix the shit they cause? She’s trying for once! Why doesn’t anyone acknowledge that? She doesn’t give people shit unless they push her. She hasn’t beat anyone up in years. She passes her classes and hates every minute of it, but no one cares. She doesn’t even care- it’s just motions that are as necessary as breathing. Boscha doesn’t know why she’s even trying to heal that stupid flower. She’s no healing witch, she’s no plant witch. Willow wouldn't want it, not after Boscha destroyed it because that’s the only thing Boscha is really good at. Willow isn’t going to forgive Boscha’s tormenting of her because of a flower. Boscha wouldn’t blame Willow either. She doesn’t deserve forgiveness.</p><p>Boscha isn’t Skara, or even fucking Amity Blight. She’s always been shitty. She’s never been Skara who is nice to everyone. She doesn’t have Amity’s strict-ass parents as an excuse. Amity is the lucky one. To break free of her own bullshit and be able to turn around. Blight never had much of a bite to her anyway. Boscha could tell the day she met her and Amity looked ready to cry tears because she would’ve rather been with anyone else. That’s how socialite friends work. You stick around because you have nowhere else to go. Nobody sticks around because they want to. Especially not for Boscha. No one is stupid enough to stick around for Boscha. Boscha is just a bitch- that’s all she’ll ever be. </p><p>There’s no fixing Boscha, who’s been cracked and fissured for as long as she can think. A natural disaster bound to bone and flesh. It’s what she deserves- the sludging guilt coiling through her veins and the aches in her chest whenever she looks at Willow. She fucked up so much, so this is her punishment. Boscha’s never going to be better- she already knows this. Her mirror had already told her. Her parents have already thought it. Boscha isn’t good for much. She can’t blame anyone for not wanting to stick around. There’s no reason to stay in a deal where you come out the loser. </p><p>The witch curls into her bed and throws her sheets over her head. She doesn’t even change out of her clothes even if they’re uncomfy as hell. She’s too tired. Too tired to care. So she just sleeps. Her parents won’t be around to give her shit for it for days and as long as she’s not dead, the staff won’t say anything either.</p><p>She stays in bed. She can’t throw off the tiredness so she just keeps to her room. Nibbles on protein bars to keep her stomach from chewing her alive and stares at Penstagram for something to do. Her father yells at her when she gets home. Tells her the school called that she hasn’t shown up in three days. Her mother tells her to get her ass in gear and go to school, there’s no room for lazy witches in this family. Boscha still wants to sleep but she’s even more tired of the yelling, so she takes a shower, brushes her hair, and grabs her books.</p><p>“Oh! You’re back,” Willow said when Boscha slinks into the room. “Were- were you sick?”</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>“Oh, um,” Willow swallows as she watches Boscha throw her stuff by the door. “Well, are you better?”</p><p>“I’m not going to get you sick,” Boscha bites out as she pulls on gardening gloves and starts weeding the planter closest to her.</p><p>“I just want to make sure you’re okay…”</p><p>Sure she does. Boscha huffs and rips the weed out with such force that the ripping of the roots breaks through the air. Willow’s shoulders droop as she goes back to work. They work in silence and Willow doesn’t mention how Boscha basically ditched her for an entire week. Boscha waters the plants, weeds the troughs, and dumps all the leftover junk into the composter. Boscha rolls her sleeves and scratches at the bandages from the glass incident. Her mother wouldn’t let anyone heal it. Said it’d make her more responsible in the future. Only idiots are stupid enough to stick their hand in the flame twice. The bandages are itchy. She’s not great with bandages even if all potion witches are taught basic self-care.</p><p>“What happened?”</p><p>Only Boscha’s third eye turns at Willow’s words. The witch is staring at her bandaged hand. Boscha shrugs.</p><p>“Glass. Potion incident.”</p><p>“<em> Really </em>?”</p><p>Boscha curls up at the disbelieving tone and she turns on Willow. The other witch barely flinches when she finds an angry potions witch in her face.</p><p>“Yes, fucking really. What else would it be, Half a Witch?”</p><p>“That’s what I’m worried about, Boscha!” Willow retorts back. “You disappeared for a week and didn’t contact anyone! I got worried!”</p><p>“I didn’t ask you to worry about me, so fuck off!” Boscha screams and crosses her arms when Willow takes a step back. Her lip falls back over her fangs as Willow backs away.</p><p>“Fine. Sorry. Let’s just… get this over with.”</p><p>It’s blessedly quiet for the next hour. Just the sound of running water and hands in dirt. It’s a small comfort for Boscha. The repetitiveness is soothing and it’s nice to know that she can take care of flowers without it falling apart on her. She decides to check on the vampire pumpkins and is surprised to see the small gourds have turned color. Small orange pumpkins are seen under the green leaves and Boscha brushes the leaves away to get a better look. She doesn’t notice Willow sidling up beside her with a trowel until Willow stabs the earth with it and digs up one of the baby pumpkins.</p><p>“What are you doing?” Boscha hisses as Willow makes sure she got all the roots.</p><p>Willow doesn’t answer as she repots it into a carryable ceramic pot. A glowing green circle has it perking up and the witch turns back to Boscha. Willow shoves the pumpkin in Boscha’s direction and when the other doesn’t take the hint, wraps Boscha’s hands around it.</p><p>“Here,” the plant witch said, “An apology. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. I was just worried about you. You get these… really bad days and I was worried about your mental health.”</p><p>“I’m not fucking crazy. Why would you worry about me anyway?” Boscha asks as she cradles the pot. </p><p>“We’re friends aren’t we? I like to help my friends.”</p><p>Boscha’s eyes narrow. No, they’re not. Boscha doesn’t have friends. She has acquaintances and lackeys and employees. No one wants to be friends with Boscha. She doesn’t deserve them- people only stay with Boscha when they need something. Because the only thing Boscha is worth is what she can cough up: potions, social status, and money. </p><p>Willow puffs out the air being shoved from her lungs as the pot is shoved back into her chest.</p><p>“We’re not fucking friends and I don’t want your dumbass plant. I’m here because I have to be. Not to hang out with your lame ass. So leave me <em> alone </em>.”</p><p>Boscha doesn’t have friends. Not any that stick around because why would anyone <em> want </em> to? Boscha isn’t stupid. She’s worse than any curse and no one deserves to be stuck with her.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I personally believe that it's not wrong to inquire about mental health if you believe you've seen signs of someone going through a really bad time. I've had to call 911 regarding someone's suicide attempts and the scariest part for me as they were healing was not knowing how to ask them if they're ok. Don't sweep it under the rug because you never want to be too late.</p><p>On a brighter note, I want to mention that Boscha's mother is the more toxic one of her parents. Her father's biggest sin is just not giving her attention. He works to provide and is bad expressing emotional affection (and married Boscha's mom who Dana said has a competitive streak with Amity's), but he does care about his daughter. This won't show up for a bit but that's why her dad isn't mentioned much.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Daffodil</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Reflection</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Content WARNING to suicide and self-harm! Neither is committed/attempted, but it is discussed in rather uncouth ways (because it's angry Boscha). I brought it up because people should still get help even if they aren't committing physical self-harm or have suicidal thoughts.</p><p>Also... Amity's just a gay jock. Like she's smart, but she's a jock. Read the chapter, you'll see what I mean.<br/>Amity's back to brown hair but keeps the ends green because Luz (very obviously) likes the green even though Luz learned why and told Amity she shouldn't keep the green.</p><p>Witches have fangs and witches hiss. I do not have them purr just because I do not believe humanoid voice boxes can physically do that and I'm a sucker for science even when I'm writing magic...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> During the Savage Ages, daffodils were the bringers of spring. This is because they are often the first flowers to bloom after winter. They have a few color variants, but are known for their traditional, cheerful yellow. As an early spring bloom, it often represents new beginnings and rebirth. It is not uncommon for them to be connected to self-awareness and inner reflection. These additional meanings might result from the fact that they grow on river banks and their reflection can always be seen in the water’s surface.  </em>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>Back to the Roots: A Physical and Spiritual Guide to the Flora of the Boiling Isles</em> </b>
</p><p>“What the hell is<em> wrong </em>with you?”</p><p>Boscha feels pain flare up her back as Amity shoves her into the locker and she automatically hisses at her. The brunette hisses back and for a moment it’s all bared fangs and hissing witches ready to rip into each other. The grip on her cowl tightens and Amity hurls her weight to the side. Boscha stumbles and only gets up to a crouch, ready to dig her nails into her attacker if necessary. Amity doesn’t approach, but there’s still low grumbling sounding through the empty hall.</p><p>“What the fuck, Blight?” Boscha seethes as Amity crosses her arms and keeps her hands close to her body. The pink witch stands up straight and crosses her own.</p><p>“Do you like making everyone miserable or is it just Willow? I told you not to mess with them!”</p><p>“Can it, Blight. She messed with me. People know better than to mess with me!”</p><p>“She’s been trying to help you, dumbass,” Amity hissed. “Would it really kill you to accept it?”</p><p>“I don’t need help! There’s nothing that can be fixed,” Boscha pushes at Amity and ignores the fangs that snap in her face. “I’m a broken piece of shit, everyone knows that!”</p><p>Amity huffs and throws her growing hair away from her face, the green tips swaying with the motion, “Yeah, well I can’t say that’s not true. But I did tell you to leave then alone or you’d have to deal with me.”</p><p>“What are you going to do?” Boscha goads. “Blush at me? You ain’t that scary, Blight. So fuck off. I didn’t start anything with your dumb girlfriend and I have nothing to start with you.”</p><p>“Stop calling Luz dumb.”</p><p>“You’re keeping this going, Amity,” Bosha notes and scowls when Amity snaps at her. “What do you want from me? I can’t afford to go home scuffed up. My mom’s already on my ass. I’m not you, little miss <em> perfect </em>. Not everyone has friends who give a shit about them.”</p><p>“What is this, Boscha? You have friends. You run this school.”</p><p>“Oh, come on, Amity,” Boscha scoffs. “You know the song and dance. You knew it back when we were fourteen. Nobody in our group actually wanted to be with each other. Obviously, you high tailed it out of there as soon as possible- showed us all that anything we have is fake. So don’t go around telling me about the power of friendship. I don’t have any and I know I don’t deserve it. So fuck off and let me get to the plant homeroom before Petals thinks I offed myself.”</p><p>“Luz is with her,” Amity offers and her bared fangs fall back behind her lips. “She’s worried about you, Boscha, and from what she tells me, I’m a little worried too. Look, I didn’t mean to drop you like I did. That- was wrong of me...”</p><p>“Get off your soapbox. I know I’m a bitch that nobody cares about. I’m not cutting and I’m not suicidal, so you can get your nosy self out of here.”</p><p>“Just because you’re not trying to kill yourself doesn’t mean you don’t need help, Boscha.”</p><p>“Oh, so you’re a therapist now?” the witch drawls and pushes past Amity.</p><p>“No, but maybe you seeing one isn’t a terrible idea. Look, I know we’re not friends but, when you aren’t bullying others, you weren’t the worst person to hang out with. Spoiled and egotistical but-”</p><p>“That’s why I’m a bitch Amity,” Boscha deadpans. “Are you really following me?”</p><p>“Yes, and that’s not what I meant. What I’m saying is,” Amity starts again and grabs Boscha’s arm to stop her. “We were both bad people, but that doesn’t mean we don’t deserve friends. You keep calling yourself a bitch. And you aren’t wrong,” Amity states with a quip of her voice and ignores the other witch’s glare. “But that doesn’t mean you have to be. People <em> change </em> Boscha.”</p><p>“Just because you fixed yourself doesn’t mean I can.”</p><p>“Yes, I changed Boscha. And let me tell you, it takes work and it isn’t easy. Do you think my parents were happy to find out that I wanted to throw away my chance at being in the <em> Emperor’s </em> Coven for a <em> human </em> ? I <em> hated </em> myself back then. I didn’t think I deserved to be around my friends and I definitely didn’t think I deserved Luz. Who am I to mess up Luz’s life with a crush? Not with what had been going on. I <em> still </em> think I don’t deserve her,” Amity admits and hugs herself around the waist. “I fucked up Willow as kids and I hid from it for ages; told myself it was what was best because Blights ruin people like her. But guess what? Our parents can be crap but that doesn’t mean we have to be too. You can like yourself again Boscha,” Amity stresses with a tight, serious expression. “But you’re going to have to work for it.”</p><p>Boscha is quiet, fangs digging into her bottom lip. She pulls her arms inward, copying Amity’s stance and looks out the window at the red trees rustling in the wind. The witch kicks at the floor and shoves her hands in her pockets.</p><p>“Does your dumb ass really think the human is ever going to break up with you? Because if so you really don’t deserve that top student badge.”</p><p>Amity chokes on a chuckle and shrugs. “Sometimes I wonder why she ever gave me a chance. And I think about how much I screwed up with her and my friends. I just… I wanted to be better. It’s just… one time, a long time ago, when we still barely knew one another. Luz told me that she can’t do magic like us. That it doesn’t come naturally to her; that she had to improvise. I thought, if a human can work against her own nature to learn magic- then I can work against mine to be a decent person.”</p><p>Amity is turning red and she’s not spared the knowing look from Boscha. Which looks even more judgemental with three eyes. The witch coughs and brushes her brown hair behind her ear.</p><p>“Look, just… think about it okay? Even if we aren’t friends, I don’t want you to be miserable.”</p><p>“Yeah, alright Blight. Now scram, Petals definitely thinks I ditched her by now,” Boscha replies nonchalantly. “Go neck your girlfriend some more.”</p><p>“I- I… What makes you think?”</p><p>“Well, unless you’re a total doormat, I’m assuming the human’s got the matching set to that little show you are wearing on your neck right now,” Boscha said with a smirk and swallows down the laughter that’s about to bubble up as Amity sputters and start pulling her cowl away to inspect her neck.</p><p>Might as well get a few jabs in before holing herself up in her room over the weekend and questioning her existence.</p><p>When Boscha enters the plant homeroom, Luz is watching her very indiscreetly out of the corner of her eye. Is the human… trying to be subtle? Boscha takes up her gloves, pretends not to see the looks the other two are giving to her, and starts weeding. She thinks as she weeds because she let Amity get into her head. The time passes quietly.</p><p>Boscha spends her nights thinking. Writing stuff out on scrap paper at one in the morning and crying in between dreams. She spends her afternoons weeding and pruning. She stays away from the pumpkins entirely and away from Willow mostly. She is too much of a coward to look the witch in the eyes. Doesn’t want to speak to her until she straightens out the mess in her head. She’s screwed with Willow too much to try to let things go back to normal when Boscha knows she’s more destructive than boiling rain. No reason to destroy anything else of Willow’s, Boscha wants the flower to be the last thing. </p><p>Boscha doesn’t even realize her month is up until she enters the greenhouse to find that Willow has been replaced with the plant teacher. The old hag eyes her and waves her further into the room.</p><p>“Willow gave me a suspiciously glowing report,” the witch informs Boscha as she checks the Fly Snapper’s leaves. “But the plants are in good care and say you weed impeccably. I've been told that this is yours,” the teacher said and waves at the lone vampire pumpkin sitting in its pot. “If you need any tips about caring for it, I’ll help you.”</p><p>Boscha takes the pumpkin, whose fangs were starting to form and poking out of the orange crevice that worked as its ‘mouth’.... thing. Willow had explained it to her, but she didn’t understand half of it. She can feel the magic radiating off it, which makes sense since they came from a demon bog and grew under magic growth spells. It pulses in rhythm as if it had its own heartbeat. </p><p>“I hope you did some reflection in here, young witch,” the teacher states as Boscha takes the pumpkin and her stuff and is halfway out the door.</p><p>Boscha only nods and leaves the classroom.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Just because you've made bad decisions does not mean you're bad forever! My mom always tells me that if you don't work through your shit, you're going to fall in it. Reflect, see what is it that has messed you up, and work like hell to process it and accept it so that you can move on. And don't carry other people's crap!! Trauma of all sorts is hard to deal with and none of it is the same. No matter what you've experienced (and whether or not you think it isn't severe enough), you deserve to feel better. If you are experiencing anxiety, depression, something else, or are just in a slump, remember that there are coping mechanisms to help you and that many people are able to overcome and live happy lives. The people I know who suffered from depression got the help they needed and are in much better places. Remember that somebody cares! Eveen if it's just the author writing a story to show how things get better! Stay healthy everyone and I'll see you next time when things start to look up.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chrysanthemum</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Acceptance</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Madame Razz meets Fauna the green fairy from Disney's Sleeping Beauty (you'll see what I mean)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Chrysanthemums (or mums, for short) vary their meaning by color. They bloom in the fall, resistant to the cold that kills many other flora. Revered in some ancient villages during the Savage Ages, there used to be a festival that revolved around the flower and it was believed that it brought happiness and good fortune. Beyond common meanings for colors, red for love and such. The mum in general promotes vitality and good health, but a personal favorite of mine is that of the white mum. A white chrysanthemum represents honesty and loyalty. A bloom to be thought about when making tough decisions.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Back to the Roots: A Physical and Spiritual Guide to the Flora of the Boiling Isles</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s early on a weekend. Early and weekend haven’t been words out to describe Boscha </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Yet here she is, in the market early on Saturday morning. She’s riding an energy high. Something she hasn’t felt in two weeks. Not since she first thought she might be able to fix one of her fuck ups for once. She failed then- she’s hoping she doesn’t now. Boscha knows the energy flood ebbs quickly. Flushes out as fast as it came in and leaves her a leaden weight on her bed. If she wants to get anything done. She has to get it done now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A shoebox is pressed to her chest and she probably looks ridiculous carrying a designer brand shoebox to her person like a kid with a stuffy. Creatures are watching her with suspicion in their eyes as she makes her way through the lined up stalls. Stuffy mothers and jaded merchants who look ready to run her out with a broom. Whatever- Boscha’s used to being watched. She’s used to being hated too. What’s a bunch of strangers to the list? She’s not here to be liked. Boscha is here to make her first genuinely thought out decision in years. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s only a handful of florists in the Boiling Isles and only there’s only this one stand in Bonesborough. It’s overflowing with flowers and Boscha can see inside part of the tent due to its clear fabric. There’s a witch bumbling around inside with gloves on her hands and glasses hanging on a chain around her neck. She’s clutching a clipboard and squinting at whatever’s on it. The old witch scratches at her chin and bursts out of the tent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, hello, dearie!” the old witch greets as she drops her clipboard. “Lovely morning, isn’t it? Oh, my little darlings are just having a wonderful time, yes they are. Isn’t that right, Marshal my lad?” the witch asks the potted tree she had beside her stall. Her boney fingers run over the tree’s leaves and Boscha swears that the thing reaches out to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe Boscha is going crazy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m looking for a flower,” Boscha starts slowly and clutches the box closer to her chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I have many flowers, dearie. Why I have some aconite, and some begonias and some darling little coriander- Oh wait, that’s for my lunch. Silly me! But I have some lovely lavender to help that scowl of yours or some daffodils. The mums are just gorgeous, but I would have to work a little magic on them to get them to bloom, you see-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m looking for whatever this is,” Boscha cuts the woman off. Just because she’s trying to not be a piece of shit does not mean she has time for this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The younger witch opens the shoebox to show the older one. The florist places her glasses primly on the edge of her nose and stuffs her face into the box.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh? Let’s see here. Fragrant… smells like burnt Vitis eyes. Ashey…” the plant witch comments and rubs one of the petals. “Brittle as my old bones- Dearie this flower is destroyed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know that!” Boscha hisses and slams the lid back on the box. “That’s why I need a new… whatever this is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jackal Ladder, dearie,” the witch informs and taps the box. “Speak its name, it has one for a reason. You can not hide it from the world.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just want another one!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Afraid I can’t help you, dear,” the florist informs and steals the box from Boscha’s hands. “Jackal Ladders are an extremely rare bloom- why I’ve only seen a few in my life. They don’t do well in captivity you know. They see too many nasty things. Have to be around the right type.” She opens up the lid and lifts the flower into the light. “My, you poor thing. Many things you have felt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just a flower,” Boscha mutters and tightens the leash on the anger starting to bleed into her body. She still needed the plant witch to help her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing is just an ‘anything’, dearie. No plant is just a plant. Things have names, dear, you must say them. Why calling this just a flower is a lie to the world. I don’t like liars.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you don’t have another one?” Boscha asks as the florist pets the dead flower’s brittle petals and runs boney fingers down its roots.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Boscha squeezes her eyes shut as a flood of weight settles in her chest. Air is forced out of her lungs. Bursts past her lips in a choked huff. The witch curls her fingers into her arms, focusing on the sting of her overgrown nails rather than the disappointment tearing into her heart. The old witch is still manhandling the carcass of the flower. Heat gathers in her chest. Burns off the oxygen that Boscha breathes in at the sight. She should’ve just burned the damn thing. Why keep a skeleton around. It’s destroyed. She ruined it. There’s no saving it and there’s no saving her. She doesn’t deserve the weightlessness of forgiveness; because Boscha is never going to be able to change.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The witch is ready to turn on her heels, ready to storm back home and rip up the papers in her rooms. Tear open the pillows and be a fucking disaster because it’s what she’s good at. That’s what she is- a natural disaster. Nothing good comes from her- she burns everything to ashes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now where are you going? You left your friend here,” the florist calls out as Boscha begins to walk away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s no friend. It’s just a plant and it’s dead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now how can you say such lies? It’s perking up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Boscha feels her brows furrow at the words and turns back to the florist because one of them </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> going crazy. She looks down at the dead flower to find it glowing a soft green under the witch’s magic. It perks up straight, stretching toward the sun and the petals unfurl from their crinkled up position. The wrinkles smooth and the petals unfurl with a burst of tawny gold. The plant witch smiles and continues to run her fingers over the roots and stem.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There you are, my little jackal. I knew you still had some fight in you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was dead- I know it was dead! She couldn’t heal it. The teacher couldn’t fix it!” Boscha exclaims as she watches the flower reach a tawny sheen, refracting the sunlight that landed on its iridescent stamen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, those teachers don’t know everything. Spends too much time with books than with actual plants,” the old witch nags and places the flower in Boscha’s reaching out hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wilts at her touch. Petals closing inward until only the tips flared out. It lost its magical shine, dark indigo taking over its color, and the iridescent stamen dulling into a dull brass. Boscha feels her shoulders drop and she shoves it back at the plant witch. Her lip pulls up to bare her fangs when it perks back up and turns back to a tawny yellow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even flowers realize she’s a piece of shit now?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are a very damaged person,” the witch states. “It can feel that- absorbs your negativity and makes it its own. Jackal Ladders never lie, my dear.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know I’m a broken bitch,” Boscha growls and glares at the flower. It starts to wilt under her look. “I don’t need you or anything else telling me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I said damaged, dearie. Not broken- Jackal Ladders are brilliant flowers. Like the animal it is named after- it can survive with very little. Even being burned and left in a dark room. It survives off what it is given and it was given you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m the reason it’s like that,” Boscha reminds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damaged? Yes, you are the reason. But you are the reason it lives.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t do anything,” Boscha insists with an edge weaving into her voice. “I could burn it up right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you wouldn’t. Jackal Ladders do not lie, dearie. If you were a bad person, this flower would’ve died. It can see that. I can see that. You have three eyes, dear; so why can’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because you’re wrong! I’m not good. I’m a bitch and that’s not going to change. I didn’t fix that flower.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm, well let’s see what the flower thinks. They can’t lie, you know. They will wilt when they are neglected. They will bloom when they want to bloom. You can not force plants to answer your will- you can only guide them. Grab that pot and some dirt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Boscha does as she’s told. She’s not sure why- her brain’s just reacting. Her fingers grasp around a ceramic pot. They grip the trowel that shovels dirt into the pot. They get stained with dirt as Boscha takes the flower and re-plants it into the hole created for it. Boscha feels dirt edge up into her nails as she pats down the soil and gives the flower support. A mild warmth passes onto them as the old plant witch wraps Boscha’s hands around the pot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So tell me who you are. Honestly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m a bad person,” is what Boscha starts with. “I used to bully people. I bullied the girl who owns this flower- called her names and humiliated her in front of the entire school. I hate myself for being such a bitch. All I do is destroy things. It’s all I’m good at anymore,” Boscha glances down at the Jackal’s Ladder and jerks her eyes away when she sees its withered, blue petals. “I’m useless… I do nothing but destroy things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So why are you here then, dearie?” asks the plant witch who fiddles her the glasses lying on the brim of her nose. She never looks Boscha in the eye- just stares at the flower being held in the pot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Someone said I could change,” Boscha scoffs now at the idea. “That I didn’t have to hate myself so much. But it’s what I deserve after making everyone else miserable for so long. I- I’m here because I wanted to fix this one thing, but I can’t fix it. Even the flower hates me… I just… I want to be better for once. I want to be a good person who people can like. I thought fixing Willow’s flower would’ve been an okay start.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take a look at your friend there,” the florist instructs and Boscha looks down at her pot. The flower has begun to unfurl, tawny yellow starting to vein across the blue petals like gold spun embroidery. “See there, you stopped lying to it and it will start liking </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Now listen here, dearie. The beauty of plants is that they are resilient, especially Jackal Ladders. A bad person wouldn’t try to fix her friend’s flower, so stop calling yourself something you know you aren’t. Flowers don’t enjoy liars.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The florist shakes a finger in Boscha’s face, but Boscha is still staring at the Jackal Ladder. She looks back up to the florist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I don’t feel like a good person…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You may not be ‘good’ yet, dearie,” the florist states as she pats Boscha’s arm. “But anyone who worries about being bad is not as bad as they think. Accept that- acceptance is the first part to change. How would flowers fare if they never accept that winter is coming? They’d freeze up! They accept that the winter is coming, change in accordance, and then bloom on a sunnier day. You’ll see your sunny day eventually, young witch, but you will never see the sun if you plant your roots in the dark. Now take your friend and leave or buy something! I have a living to make!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Boscha buys a young white mum plant whose blooms have just started to grow. She nods along to the care instructions as she hands over a handful of snails and runs away as the witch is saying that she gave her too much. She places it in a sunny spot of her room as instructed, right next to the growing vampire pumpkin. She waters both of them with the leftovers of her water bottle. It makes her smile just slightly and she doesn’t notice more tawny gold sweep across the blue petals of the Jacob Ladder.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>My mom has told me this a lot when my anxiety is bad and I feel like a terrible person. Terrible people don't typically feel bad about being terrible. Two chapters left! Finale and an epilogue</p><p>Me: what if the plant symbolism isn't obvious enough<br/>Chapter: chock full of symbolism and plant symbolism is literally how I introduce every chapter<br/>Me: Hmmm not enough. Typing fingers go brrr<br/>Aka I'm sorry if I drove the symbolism home to much. Boscha's dense as a brick rn and I have to make her realize the symbolism (TvT)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Jackal's Ladder</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Apologizing?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Please read the end of the notes!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em> In the Savage Ages, jackals were seen as symbols of youth. Mischievous, smart and schemers. A jackal could better their lives using the scraps others threw away. Those who dreamed of jackals were to be blessed with success. After Belos took the throne, the jackal lost its favorable appeal. It’s nocturnal ways and shifty nature turned it into a creature of deception and lies. The flower, Jackal’s Ladder, is a rare bloom that shifts from blue to a tawny yellow depending on the auras around it. In modern times, it symbolizes a ladder connecting one walking the wrong path to the moral path. It prompts change for the better, climbing out of deception and into the truth to reclaim one’s happiness. </em> </p><p>
  <b> <em>Back to the Roots: A Physical and Spiritual Guide to the Flora of the Boiling Iles</em> </b>
</p><p>Boscha does another thing she has not done in years that Saturday. She goes to talk to her father. Boscha’s father is… fine. They don’t talk much. He does his job. Feeds her, clothes her, gives her things she asks for her birthday- but Boscha hasn’t had a genuine conversation with him in forever. His room is dark except for the lights he keeps by his desks. It’s dark and it smells like coffee. Boscha’s half certain the only thing that keeps him going through long business calls and nights writing papers is caffeine. </p><p>Boscha’s tired just thinking about it.</p><p>He doesn’t look up at her until she’s right in front of his giant ass desk. When he does it looks like he forgot that other people live in his house. They stare at each other like strangers, awkward faces, and limp limbs. Boscha’s father sets his pen down comically slow, steadies it so that it does not run around his desk. The papers shuffle as he straightens then.</p><p>“Boscha.”</p><p>“Dad.” Boscha answers and the silence creeps again like fog over a graveyard. Boscha doesn’t like being in this office- it’s where one’s energy goes to die. She crosses her arms over herself, warding off the chill that is settling between her shoulder blades. The witch doesn’t think it’s from the cold- they spent a lot of snails for the Construction coven to install high power temperature glyphs. </p><p>“What can I do for you?” </p><p>Boscha feels her eyes twitch. Always has got to be a damn business transaction… </p><p>“I need something from you.”</p><p>“Hmm, it is time to upgrade your scroll already? I’ll make sure someone does it,” </p><p>“No, my scroll is fine,” Boscha huffs and drops her arms. “I think I need a therapist.”</p><p>Boscha’s father looks up, an eyebrow raised. He folds his hands over his stack of paper and eyes his daughter, “And why’s that?”</p><p>“For shits and giggles,” Boscha drawls out and she can’t prevent the eye roll. “For every other reason people go to therapy. Because I’m tired of fucking hating myself.”</p><p>“You are a very competent witch, Boscha. There’s no reason to hate yourself-”</p><p>“I’m a fucking bitch and everyone knows it,” Boscha interrupts and throws her head to the side. She grips her arms and takes in a breath through her nose. It pulls into her lungs and she holds it there. Let’s the heat of her anger flood it before exhaling it back out of her mouth. The brain fog clears slightly. “Look… I’m tired of this. I’m tired of being angry and I’m tired of thinking about how I’m a piece of garbage. I’m tired… I don’t have the energy to fucking fight you over this, so are you going to help me or not?”</p><p>Boscha looks up at her father with tired, drooping eyes. Boscha’s father nods firmly and the witch feels the weight start to lift off her shoulders, just a little. She turns around to exit the office and its suffocating smell of candle wax and old coffee.</p><p>“Boscha,” her father calls out as she’s about to cross the threshold of the door. Boscha doesn’t turn around to face him, she can tell by the scratching sound that he’s picked up his pen again. “I wish you the best. It’s a strong thing. What you’re doing. I’ll get something for you by the end of the week.”</p><p>Boscha’s mouth twists at the words, halfway between a confused smile and a grimace. She glances over her shoulder at him and sees his hunched up form writing away at his stack of documents. Her eyes furrow in befuddlement and the witch keeps moving.</p><p>“Right… thanks I guess.”</p><p>…</p><p>Boscha’s father pulls through quickly. In just a few days she’s in a waiting office ready to meet the poor sap that got stuck with her. It smells like aromatic potions- one of the ones her Potion Brewing teacher has them make at least once a week. The seats are cushy, but she can’t get comfortable in them. Her own skin is crawling off her and she wants to itch her skin raw from her nerves. She settles with tracing the woodgrain of the seat handles. There are a few children in the room, actual children. One is holding their stuffed animal to their chest like a shield. Another is stacking blocks, making them look just so. There’s a boy that can be heard slamming pegs into one of those game boards they keep on the wall and his mother tries to pull him away before he breaks them. He screams at her.</p><p>Boscha can relate.</p><p>Boscha’s new therapist is holding a mug and the steam from her drink coils around the woman’s chin like newly grown vines. There’s another with her, a slim thing with glasses and a notebook tucked under his arm. When Boscha’s father rises up the witch gives him a questioning look.</p><p>“Figured if you can do it, I might as well give it a try.”</p><p>Her father leaves first, following the slim figure down a hall and presumably into a room. The other sips at her mug and lets Boscha stare at her father’s retreating form or a second. She then clears her voice to draw the young witch’s attention.</p><p>“Shall we get started?”</p><p>Boscha’s led to a room with some more plushy chairs. The corner has shelves stocked full of books. A wall has a whiteboard on it with some markers scattered in a bin on the floor. Boscha takes a seat on the love seat. The therapist sits opposite her in a chair.</p><p>“My name’s Lissa. I know this probably feels weird. A lot of teenagers don’t like the idea of someone paid to listen to them- so let’s not think about that. I’m here because I’ve been trained and I want to help you, but you have to let me. Okay?”</p><p>Boscha nods and clasps her hands together. Her stomach is rolling around inside her, tripping over her intestines. There’s a clock on the wall that ticks just a little too loudly in the silence. Lissa keeps her hands wrapped around her warm mug and watches her. The older witch takes another sip of her drink.</p><p>“So the best way to do this is to rip off the bandages. Tell me about yourself, Boscha.”</p><p>Boscha does. She doesn’t look at Lissa for most of it- knows that if she looks at her face and sees something she doesn’t like that she’ll clam up. She focuses her eyes on her hands and pretends that she’s talking to the flowers that now sit on her window sill. She starts with the Jackal’s Ladder because it just seems like an okay place to start. She fast forwards sometimes because she gets sidetracked by Willow, or reels back to the past from to when she first met Amity. Focuses on her shame, on how she used to pull others down because she hated that she could never rise up. It causes that burn of anger to flare inside her blood. She itches at the boiling she feels under skin. It’s one thing to think about it- saying it out loud just makes her want to vomit and tear off her own ears because she’s just so Titan damned<em> horrible </em>. And now another person knows how broken she is.</p><p>Lissa lets her finish. Let’s Boscha choke on her own words and sputter for air. When the teen’s throat closes up and the words dam up her voice, the therapist pushes the tissue box closer. Lissa smiles softly at Boscha and puts down her mug. Gently, she tells Boscha that they made a good foundation.</p><p>“So let’s start building up? Okay, hun?”</p><p>Boscha nods her agreement.</p><p>…</p><p>Boscha wakes up to water the plants. School too, but she gets out of her bed for the plants. Her limbs are heavy and her mind foggy. Her tongue is uncomfortable in her mouth. A dark fog clouds her body, weighs it down as if cement sludges through her veins and not blood. The witch blinks up at her ceiling until her alarm screams itself hoarse. It’s early, the sun is barely up. Peeking through her window like a curious animal. The white, barely-there blooms of the mum plant won’t be getting the sun for a few more hours- the pumpkin won’t either until the sun reaches higher into the sky. </p><p>The witch drags herself out of her bed to water the plants. Water the mum enough to keep it moist until she gets home. Water the pumpkin and make sure it all doesn’t just collect on the large leaves. Check to make sure the teeth of the vampire pumpkin aren’t tangling and drop in the supplement the florist gave her. A little water to the Jackal Ladder- it doesn’t like having too much of it. Think about food, because the therapist said it might get her going if her plants don’t encourage her enough. Eggs and toast maybe, the berry jam that she didn’t hate from the other week? Boscha grabs the Jackal Ladder’s pot and tells herself she’ll decide once she gets downstairs.</p><p>Her history class is locked when Boscha first arrives. This isn’t a total surprise- most students spend their time in their track homerooms or the hallways. Boscha sits against the wall, cradling the flowerpot between her knees and her chest and staring at its blue flowers. Her fangs are biting at her lip.</p><p>There are so many ways this can go wrong. She’ll destroy it somehow- the flower or the gesture. She’ll destroy it like she destroys everything and everyone will see that she’s terrible. Boscha’s fingers dig into the ceramic of the pot and she watches the Jackal Ladder wilt under her gaze. Her lips purse as that fire flares in her chest. Starts licking away at her air and her head, burning at whatever it can reach. The Jackal Ladder leaves start to curl in.</p><p>Take a breath. Stop… hold it. Count back from ten- center yourself. Boscha can hear Lisa in her head. Rationalize and, ugh lists. Boscha hates the lists, it makes her feel like a child to list out good things and why she’s not the bad things. But she told herself she can’t give the flower back if she doesn’t work for it. So Boscha makes lists- takes every train running wild in her head and pins it to a track made of logic and reason. Boscha lets her eyes open. Takes another calming breath. </p><p>“Come on- You’re no wimp. Just chug the potion and get your ass in gear,” Boscha says to herself. The fire ebbs back a little and the flower smoothes out some of its wrinkles. It’s a start.</p><p>Boscha ducks into the room the moment the teacher opens the door. She ignores his questions and settles into her normal seat, tucking the flower under her table and out of kicking range. Students filter in eventually- slowly make their way to their seats and linger at the doors as they extend what freedom they have. </p><p>The teacher wrangles them all in and Boscha sits up a little straighter when Willow sits in front of her. They make eye contact and Boscha fails at a smile. She coughs away the dread in her throat and pokes the witch’s arm when Willow goes to turn around.</p><p>“I… I- If you have time after class. I- I would-”</p><p>“Sure, Boscha,” Willow answers gently and shoves Luz’s nosy face to the other side of the table. She ignores the human’s startled yelp and the teacher’s berating voice.</p><p>“I- thanks, Willow.”</p><p>The class passes slowly and Boscha knows she didn’t pay any attention. She didn’t even bother to write notes. She spent her time waiting, fidgeting in her seat, and trying not to glance at the flower under the table. When class ends she waits at her table- grips at her pencil as the other students flee to more interesting classes. Even the teacher skirts out the door when someone starts screaming. Willow and her friends stay behind.</p><p>The young illusionist is shaking in his boots. Literally, Boscha can see his shivering from here. Luz is faking her disinterest, exaggeratedly swaying on her feet so that the movement keeps Boscha in her line of vision. When Amity shows up she looks between Boscha and the group before she drags the human and the illusionist out of the room. Boscha sees Luz brush a piece of Amity’s hair away and whisper in the witch’s ear. Willow and Boscha both roll their eyes when Amity turns red and hastens her steps.</p><p>“I will vomit on them one day just so I’m not subject to that anymore,” Boscha snarks and she feels a rush of adrenaline when Willow snorts out a laugh.</p><p>“Amity’s a mess,” Willow agrees as she turns to face Boscha. She shifts her books in her arms. “How are you, Boscha?”</p><p>“Terrible. I feel like shit, and apparently that’s not normal,” Boscha responds. “But- Blight made me think about if I had to feel like trash all the time… and. And…” Boscha trails off and wets her dry lips. “I just- hold on. I have something for you.” </p><p>The witch goes under the table and cradles the flower close to her chest. She turns back to Willow, looking at the flower to make her words flow easier.</p><p>“Apparently, it wasn’t dead… I, look I’m not good at this,” Boscha lets out a huff and shoves the plant out toward Willow. “I’m not a good person. I’m bitchy, and mean, and I bullied you and it was a shitty thing to do. Just because I hated myself didn’t mean I had to take it out on you. I’m a piece if shit…” Boscha mutters to the empty classroom. “But I don’t want to be a bitch anymore. I- I<em> know </em> this doesn’t make up for anything. I ruined it in the first place. I was a bitch to you years ago and I was a bitch to you just the other week… but… I’m <em> sorry </em> . I’m really, <em> fucking </em> sorry and I don’t deserve to be because I don’t think there’s anything I can do to fix what I did. And I’m not sure if I really <em> can </em> change,” Boscha confesses as she pets one of the flower’s petals. “But my therapist said that apologizing is a step I should take. I’m <em> trying </em> to be better,” Boscha says and looks up. Her three eyes lock onto Willow’s. “I’m going to try <em> really </em> fucking hard and I hope that when I can look at myself and not hate what I see that you can look at me and not hate me either.” </p><p>“I haven’t hated you in a long time, Boscha,” Willow responds and gives the witch a small smile. “I forgave you weeks ago. I’m a friend, and as your friend, I don’t want you to hate yourself either.”</p><p>“Don’t call us friends! Not yet,” Boscha hastily adds on and hugs the flower to herself. “I’m- I don’t want us to be friends until I proved to myself and everyone else that I changed. I don’t- I don’t want to be the same person who bullied you anymore. I- I haven’t forgiven myself yet. I want to earn your forgiveness… even if it’s yours to give. So, Willow,” Bosch starts with a determined edge to her voice, “the day I can hold your Jackal Ladder and it turns yellow… I hope you can consider letting us be friends.”</p><p>Boscha pushes the flower out again and Willow gingerly takes a hold of the pot. The petals unfurl outward, twirling into full bloom and bursting out in their tawny yellow. Small specks of refracted light shine off the iridescent stamen and reflect off Willow's face. Boscha can see the leaves reach out to the plant witch and the corners of her lips twitch up. It really <em> is </em> beautiful.</p><p>“I’m looking forward to that day, Boscha.”</p><p>There’s a flutter in Boscha’s lungs.</p><p>“Me too, Petals.”</p><p>A soft warmth floods through Boscha’s chest like sunlight crawling through the window. It breaks through the damp, sodden gunk lodged in there and an easy breath enters her lungs. She gives Willow an awkward wave goodbye and darts out the door. It’s a start… It’s a start.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This is the official "end", but there is an epilogue where that ship tag comes into play. This is 100% because the trope where love cures depression is wrong. You can love someone so much and that won't cure them! Love and support are obviously necessary for recovery, but it is not a cure-all! If someone says they need you to keep themselves from being depressed or suicidal, that is bad! So that's why this ends as it does, not in love or even friends but the reminder that Willow is supportive of Boscha and is happy to wait for when she's happy and healthy.</p><p>Forgiveness is the wronged's right to give.  Willow didn't have to forgive Boscha and her reasons for doing and is explored in the epilogue! Boscha apologized because she is sorry and it's the right thing to do, but she doesn't really want Willow's forgiveness until she feels like she's better. If that makes sense.</p><p>I always suggest therapy even if it is a guessing game. Therapy is hold when you get the right person and Lissa is literally just my therapist, right down to the mug! I did glaze over it because therapy is different for everyone and I haven't had to go in a long time, but I do suggest it. Look into your options!</p><p>Epilogue might take a few days- it's being stubborn. I also have some "production" notes I want to write out. Stuff that got scrapped or things I wanted to add but couldn't figure out how. If anyone is interested in an add on "chapter" detailing these notes, I would love to post them! Tell me in the comments if you would like these notes.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Hydrangea (Epilogue)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Forgiveness and something entirely new</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Yes the summary is a Steven Universe reference</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Hydrangea means water pot. This can be quite fitting considering the amount of water these flowers need to stay alive. Despite their picky water conditions, they can grow in various climates and even change color depending on their soil conditions! The Savage Ages has an oral story of a king giving blue hydrangeas to his love as an apology for neglectful behavior- these flowers were often given to show gratitude and unity. Of its common colors, only white (the only type of hydrangea that can’t change its petal colors) has negative connotations of vanity and boasting. Blue means apology and gratitude. Pink represents romance and genuine feelings, and purple meant pride and understanding. I like to think that this color-changing flower can also symbolize a person’s growth. It is truly a flower for many occasions!</em>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>Back to the Roots: A Physical and Spiritual Guide to the Flora of the Boiling Isles</em> </b>
</p><p>Senior year means focused study. There are only a few general classes that students take. Two, to be exact. History and mathematics. The probability of one witch from another track showing up in a specific period is slim. The probability of Boscha, a dedicated potions witch, winding up in a class with Willow, a dedicated plant witch, is in the single digits. </p><p>They’re in each other's history class with the same teacher they always have. </p><p>Boscha is… better. She’s not sure if she can define herself as good yet. There’s still this… sludge that takes over her body sometimes. Posses her limbs and forces her into the back of her own head. Days when she can’t force herself out of bed and her resentment claws at her throat because she can see her plants wilting in the sun waiting for water. It fogs her head, clouds her with guilt, and a burning shame that makes her curl up and go back to sleep just to avoid it. Headaches and aching joints, physical pain that cracks at her determination as much as the emotional weight of everything. But even her bad days are better. Boscha can breathe. There’s no burning in the pit of her stomach that licks at her insides and boils her blood until she itches at her skin just to make the feeling go away. Boscha can still feel its lingering heat, simmering and sometimes even sparking, but it’s <em> better </em>. Like Lissa always tells her, it’s a start. </p><p>Boscha won’t say she doesn't gets tired of trying- because she has and she is. It’s constant behavior correction, constant breathing exercises as she rewires her thoughts and works against her own head. The results are slow. Which is why Lissa tells her to stay near plants. Her plants grow slow, little by little they color and expand until Boscha realizes that one day they’re completely different. Her vampire pumpkin is now matured with fangs over an inch long jutting out of its mouth and thick coiling vines curling along its pot. Her mum plant had to be repotted- one day Boscha looked at it and found the thing overflowing its original home. She has others in the garden, but these ones are the ones she watches in her room. They change, slowly, along with Boscha.</p><p>So things are better. Not perfect, never perfect, but Boscha can look at her own reflection without feeling that twisting of her gut or the burning shame in her head. She works through the muck in her brain week after week, examining and processing everything she pulls out. She tries to reconcile with her mother and fails. Gets into loud arguments and hissing matches about mistakes and expectations and everything else. Her mother calls her delusional and refuses to budge on the topics. Her father gently takes hold of her shoulder and they move to his office to sip on warm drinks. Her father tells her things: stories, apologies, praise that Boscha doesn’t feel like she deserves. Boscha is told not to wait for her mother- no one can force someone to change, not even daughters. The witch accepts her loss and moves on. She’s got one parent in her corner and she can work with that.</p><p>Boscha is better. She still has bad days. When she plops down in history it’s with a tired slump. The words of the teacher aren’t sticking. She keeps blinking as if that would help. Eventually, she just throws her pencil down and closes her notebook. She gives up- it’s not happening today. A soft touch grazes her wrist and Boscha slumps her head over to Willow’s concerned face. Through the haze clouding her brain, Boscha can feel her heart stutter in her chest. Titan, she almost forgot she had a crush. She wishes she can… it’s not like she’d ever deserve Willow.</p><p>“Are you okay?”</p><p>It makes Boscha smile slightly and even though it falls quickly Willow smiles back. Boscha nods and rubs at her face.</p><p>“Just… bad day. My mom.”</p><p>“Okay,” Willow whispers back and glances to make sure the teacher is still droning on before continuing. “I’ll give you my notes after class.”</p><p>The conversation is over. Mostly because Willow doesn’t want to get stuck in detention for talking in class. Boscha smiles again and rolls her pencil around her desk. She has something to add to her list of good things for the day. She’d die of embarrassment if anyone actually saw the list. It was made up almost entirely of Willow acts of kindness for her pitiful ass and the old senile florist.</p><p>Boscha doesn’t realize the class is over until the bell is screaming in her ears. She gathers her stuff in her arms and blinks when Willow slips her notebook on top of it. The witch fumbles, a slight blush painting her cheeks when Willow clasps Boscha’s arm to leverage her weight.</p><p>“There you go! Oh, I was wondering if you wanted to come to the plant homeroom after school? The freshmen are getting their pumpkins.”</p><p>The sludge pushes against Boscha’s brain and the witch takes a deep breath, “I don’t know if I’m up for it today. Uh, thanks though?”</p><p>“It’s okay, Boscha. I’ll film it for you if one of them gets chomped on.”</p><p>That gets a laugh out of the witch and Willow joins her. The weight lifts off her at the increase in mood and Boscha gently bumps into her on the way out of class.</p><p>“You better, Petals. Bye Willow… and thanks.”</p><p>… </p><p>“As your certified human best friend. I just think maybe you should think this over again.”</p><p>Willow takes a deep breath and lets her exhale take her aggravation with it. Luz doesn’t get it. Her dads don’t either. Willow can understand that, but she’s done trying to explain it to them. Her forgiveness is hers to give. Plus, Luz is being a hypocrite.</p><p>“You realize Amity tried to not only dissect you,” Willow counters as she waters one of her father's rose bushes, “She also almost squashed you into the ground with an abomination.”</p><p>“T-thats… true,” Luz admits solemnly and drops into a lump onto the ground. “But <em>Boscha</em>, Willow?”</p><p>“She’s been working very hard, Luz. She deserves a second chance,” Willow calmly states as she casts a small spell to brighten the blooms of the flowers. “It’s been over half a year, Luz. I think she deserves a clean slate.”</p><p>“How do you even know she likes you? Do you even like <em> her </em>?”</p><p>She knows because Willow isn’t blind. It’s hard not to notice someone blushing every time you smile at them. Or how she looks at Willow when they’re in a group. Besides, Willow has seen Boscha bloom. Watched her wrangle her anger and her pain and exert her energy into other things. Being a better grudgby captain, caring for the plants that Willow knows she keeps in her room because Boscha asks her for tips regularly. Willow’s not the same person she was years ago and Boscha isn’t either. Willow appreciates the work, remembers having to do her own when she was fourteen. Boscha worked hard to get to where she’s at and Willow has the perfect way to prove it.</p><p>Besides, Boscha’s a sweet thing at her core. There’s brambles of thorns surrounding her, ones that overgrew and pierced Boscha’s own heart. It took Boscha time to prune them back, but people are still too scared of getting pricked to try to get close to Boscha. The potions witch still runs Hexside, mostly because no one dares to challenge her, but Willow wishes that others would give her a chance.</p><p>When they first saw each other again on the first day of the new school year, Boscha stuttered out a hello, an apology, and three questions about mums in one breath. Willow hadn’t been able to hold in her laugh and when Boscha just chuckled and blushed… well, Willow can’t say she didn’t think she wasn’t cute. Boscha is, of course, still Boscha. Tough as nails and ready to chew out anyone dumb enough to mess with her, but Willow had never seen her smile the way she did as they chuckled together. Boscha offered the empty seat next to her and Willow didn’t decline.</p><p>Something planted itself that day and Willow hates the idea of pulling it out.</p><p>“I think you’re being nosy,” Willow answers Luz’s question. “Don’t you have something with Gus or something?”</p><p>“You’re right! And I see your diversionary tactic,” Luz states as she peels herself off the ground. “Tell. Me. Everything. I mean it. And if Boscha messes with you- I’ll beat her up.”</p><p>“Luz, she can still destroy every bone in your body.” The plant witch goes over to one of her flower beds with a pot and a trowel. “And I can take care of myself. So shoo.”</p><p>The human leaves, loudly telling Willow to text her later to which Willow makes noises of agreement as she digs up one of the blooming flowers. She carefully transfers it to the pot, pats the soil down, and gives the bloom a drink. A spell makes sure it doesn’t experience any repotting shock and then she’s off to meet Boscha.</p><p>She asked Boscha to meet her in Bonesborough and when Willow gets there she sees the witch’s pink hair contrasting with the green leafage of the florist stand. Boscha is putting something into her bag and handing over some snails to the old witch. The pink witch tolerates the old lady’s patting hands and the tugging on her clothes for a moment before she pries herself free.</p><p>“I didn’t know you knew Tany,” Willow starts and snickers slightly when Boscha jumps and hides her bag behind her person. “Just me.”</p><p>“What the fuck? Trying to scare me out of my own body?” Boscha huffs, but the words are weightless and light. </p><p>“How are you today?” Willow asks as they leave the crowded market area for a quiet section of town.</p><p>Boscha shrugs, “Got into a screaming match with my mom. Dad intervened and told me to go cool down before one of us broke something.”</p><p>Willow frowns slightly and pulls them towards a bench. She places the basket she’s carrying on the ground and tugs Boscha with her to the seat. The other witch stiffens up when Willow pulls her into a hug.</p><p>“Uh… Petals?”</p><p>“You looked like you needed it.” Willow untangles herself from Boscha and doesn’t mention the blush she sees falling across her face. “I have something for you.”</p><p>Boscha leans over, watches as Willow hefts the basket onto her lap. Willow motions for Boscha to close her eyes. Motions more firmly when Boscha crosses her arms and gives her a look.</p><p>“Yes, really, you big baby. Close your eyes and don’t open them until I say something.”</p><p>Three eyes roll but blink close and stay closed as the ruffling of fabric sounds through the air. The towel thrown over the basket falls to the ground and the witch takes the pot. She wraps Boscha’s hands around the warm ceramic.</p><p>“What are you doing, Petals?”</p><p>“How’s your pumpkin? Have you named it yet?” Willow redirects and Boscha scoffs at her question but her blush is evidence enough. “You <em> did </em> name it, didn’t you?”</p><p>“... Leave Hollow alone,” Boscha mumbles. “He’s fine. Biting anything that comes near him. I’ve started giving him the scraps from my dinner.”</p><p>“That’s good,” Willow responds as she sits back. The Jackal Ladder Boscha is holding is small, young. It took Willow months to successfully germinate a new flower from her family’s original. The plant witch watches it, stares at the tawny petals and full, green leaves. It isn’t shimmering, the stamen don’t flicker iridescent rainbows that freckle the skin… but it’s a tawny yellow. “Open your eyes and look down.”</p><p>Boscha does, blinks at Willow with eyes furrowed in confusion, and looks down at the pot in her hands. She immediately clenches the pot tighter to prevent her loose grip from making the pot fall over.</p><p>“ This one’s yours.”</p><p>“What? Hell no,” Boscha denies and firmly shakes her head and pushes the pot back to Willow. “I do not know how to take care of a Jackal Ladder.”</p><p>“We’re friends now. It’s yellow and you said when it’s yellow we can at least be friends. You deserve this one, Boscha.” Willow gently pushes the flower back to Boscha’s chest. She watches the witch hug it to her chest like a stuffed toy. “I wanted to let you keep the original, but you would never take it.”</p><p>“No fuck I wouldn’t take it! It was yours and I almost killed it! Did you forget that?” Boscha screeches at her and the flower wilts slightly in her hands, the yellow veining in indigo. “I hurt you so much Willow…”</p><p>“And I forgive you. My forgiveness is mine to give. You’re good, Boscha. I want you to have this, okay?”</p><p>Willow watches the indigo fall away and the stamen start to freckle weak lights across Boscha’s face. The plant witch pushes a lock of hair that falls into Boscha’s face to the side.</p><p>“Okay…”</p><p>“Okay you’re good or okay you’ll keep it?”</p><p>Boscha’s face purses, scrunches up into a pout that only deepens when Willow snorts out a laugh. She taps Boscha’s cheek.</p><p>“Hey, close your eyes again.”</p><p>“How many fucking plants did you bring?” Boscha counters and tightens her grip on her Jackal’s Ladder.</p><p>“I want to do something. If you’ll let me, close your eyes.” </p><p>When Boscha rolls her eyes but compiles, the witch places both her hands flat on the bench and leans forward. Willow plants a kiss next to Boscha’s mouth and lingers there for a second. Places a soft pressure against Boscha’s skin and then pulls back. She smiles at the red cheeks and flared open eyes.</p><p>“You shouldn’t do that. I- I don’t… You can do better than me. I- Do you even <em> like </em> me? I can’t tell if you’re just being nice and hate me or- or,” Boscha starts stuttering and snaps her jaw shut when Willow gently grabs one of her wrists.</p><p>“Why don’t you let me decide if I like you or not? And Boscha. I don’t hate you. I think I’m starting to like you a lot.”</p><p>Boscha’s quiet and glancing to the side, watching the people passing them with vivid interest. Willow sighs and brushes her hair out of her face. Maybe that hadn’t been the best execution…</p><p>“Would you… could you do that again?” </p><p>Willow smiles at the mumbles words and leans in to press a kiss to Boscha’s cheek. When she pulls back, Willow cheekily taps her own and snickers at the flustered expression that takes over Boscha’s face. She waits for Boscha, who leans forward and skirts back like a skittish animal. The plant witch is ready to let the girl off the hook when a quick peck is pressed to her cheek. By the time Willow blinks, Boscha is pushed against the handle of the bench as far from Willow as she can get and is blushing down at her flower. It’s a start and Willow’s looking forward to watching this new thing of theirs bloom.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Btw, it's Tany as in botany</p><p>Thanks for sticking around guys! This story means a lot and became so much more than what I thought it would! Thank you for your support and I hope that it helped somebody.</p><p>I'll be releasing the production notes and done art work I made for this soon. I botched up Boscha's face and need to fix her eyes asap. Also want to make like, cover art that isn't a hastily coloured sketch but that will take days</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Production Notes & Art</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>BTW if I have random words in my replies that don't make any sense it is because I use an autotype thing on my kindle to reply to stuff when I wake up and the sleep fog makes my editing section of the brain turn off. </p><p>Just some stuff that never made it in, questions that I've answered and think is important for everyone to notice, and a sketch. I'm not sure if anyone really wanted this, but I wanted to post it so I am. Also... Boschlow sequel is potentially a thing... maybe around my school break when I can actually write w/o procrastinating everything else</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">FAQ's and Clarifications</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>How far into the future is this fic?</strong>
</p><p>The main story is two years after season one where everyone is around 16-17 years/ in their junior year at Hexside (I'm American so this is my standard). The epilogue takes place around six months later during their senior year. I've made this fic to try to stay true to canon, even any future episodes. Hence why I never mentioned Belos or restrictions on magic. It's vague on purpose. I have stated that Willow and Boscha are "dedicated" witches, as in they focus on one type of magic. I like to think in a future where covens are optional, that Boscha learns some plant magic of her own.</p><p>
  <strong>Boscha's personality is very angry. How are you writing her like that all the time?</strong>
</p><p>I have to write Boscha in one sitting. In fact, chapters 1-5 were written in two days. I also listened to the same exact music every time (see the last bullet). Chapters 6 and 7 were the hardest because of the character shift in her personality.</p><p>
  <strong>Aidyr commented about Boscha and her resilience to self-harm and my reply to it was this:</strong>
</p><p>The thing about Boscha and her depression is that it all centers around the idea that she deserves to feel terrible because she IS terrible. Self harm is usually used as a type of relief, a way to feel something besides the crap going on in your head. So my Boscha has never purposefully cut herself. Perhaps she's thought about it, but it all goes back to that she doesn't think she deserves the release. As terrible as that sounds to an outsider.</p><p>
  <strong>Sequel?</strong>
</p><p>Maybe... in all honesty, the epilogue could've been its own story if I wanted it to be and I am considering writing an actual dedicated Boschlow piece set after Jackal's Ladder, but I'm a stickler for canon and having to guess around the show is hard. Living up to Jackal's Ladder would not be easy and also I have <em>no</em> experience dating. We'll see, I have little self-control.</p><p>
  <strong>A note on Boscha herself:</strong>
</p><p>I didn't want her abused/experience a death/insert life-changing moment in order for her to change or gain the sympathy of the reader. Sometimes people, even rich people with non-(physically) abusive (they're neglective and the mom is a piece of work) parents who haven't experienced a traumatizing moment fall on rough times. Mental health always seems to be represented by actors/characters with obvious signs of trauma. Which is valid because they get it, but anyone can get depressed or in need of mental help, and everyone should get treatment without the dumb gatekeeping to what is "real" problems. So yeah... nothing wrong with having someone die or having abuse being the sympathizer but I wanted something different.</p><p>
  <span class="u">Production Fun Facts</span>
</p><ul>
<li>This story was going to be focused solely on romance- it became so much more than that</li>
<li>The introductory flower blurb at the beginning of each chapter was originally never part of the story. It started as just a page about the Jackal's Ladder that is revealed to be part of one of Willow's books, but I spent so much time researching flower symbolism to pick chapter titles that I made one for each flower used. I was thinking about just putting notes in about the flowers, but I wasn't sure anyone would read them. I mean, people might skip over them still but there's a better shot of the symbolism getting through if I plaster it at the beginning of each chapter.   
<ul>
<li>Chapters changed flowers during drafting! In the outline, chapter 1 was hyacinths, 5 was originally mums and not daffodils, 6 would've been roses, and 8 was violets. I changed most of these because I found better candidates that didn't depend on a specific color as much.</li>
</ul>
</li>
<li>Amity getting into a scuffle with Boscha was suppose to be chapter 1 and completely just Lumity fan service. I scrapped that for what is currently written because it wasn't necessary.</li>
<li>Skara was kind of supposed to be in Amity's role in Daffodile (chapter 5) where the original idea was that she would've been there to tell Boscha that she did have friends who cared. Amity won out because she has the whole redeemed bully going on for her and we barely see Skara or her character at all. Hence I removed her from the tags</li>
<li>The Vinira reference in Aconite is an easter egg to my other toh series where I'm sure a lot of you came from</li>
<li>The boiling rain being a symbol for Boscha was something I came up with writing the chapter. It originally was just a plot point to force her to run into WIllow, but I figured it fit too well. I wanted to add in a detail that boiling rain is heavily magic laced and its heavy magical properties is what causes it to de so destructive, but I never had the chance. 
<ul>
<li>This magic-infused rain idea was supposed to be used when Willow is watering magic plants and they need the boiling rain to grow. Showing that something destructive has its uses, but I used the weeds instead.</li>
</ul>
</li>
<li>Willow's Jackal Ladder is her grandmothers- originally it was supposed to be the last gift she gave Willow before she died, but I figured that'd put Willow in a bad headspace and unwilling to forgive Boscha so I scrapped the dead part</li>
<li>The pumpkin that became a big part of this story was originally just a throwaway even when I first wrote it- I just wanted something they could bond over and then I became attached (TvT) so now we have Hollow who is like, a venus fly trap but a magic pumpkin who doesn't die (and yes, inspired from SU)</li>
<li>The potion being red in Lavender is supposed to make people think of blood. There is no cutting, but Boscha is doing the equivalent to her mind. I wouldn't write it myself because I'm a little sensitive to self-harm and suicide and don't like writing it.
<ul>
<li>Also because depression isn't always cutting and suicide attempts; people should get help no matter the severity of it</li>
</ul>
</li>
<li>Boscha's dad was not originally going to play much of a part, but she needed a parental figure. I actually didn't want to use him because he enables the mother by not stopping her, but it was the best I could do without adding in a new character
<ul>
<li>on this note, the original person Boscha was going to ask for help from was her potions teacher! I scrapped this because the school always goes back to the parents either way</li>
</ul>
</li>
<li>Amity was supposed to be a lot meaner in Daffodil because she still has some misconceptions about Boscha, but it led to her being very cold to depression symptoms and that just felt wrong</li>
<li>The old plant witch is named Tany as in botany </li>
<li>Story proper was supposed to end with a kiss, but I remembered seeing a post about how depression is often displayed as something romance/love can fix and that's just... not true in the slightest. I spent time researching and making Boscha as accurately depressed without overplaying all the common and frankly bad representation out there and knew I couldn't end it with her still messed up but with Willow. One, Willow would never do that. Two, that's an unhealthy and going toward codependent, toxic relationship. Thus, an ending with tentative friendship and a fragile beginning of romance in the epilogue. 
<ul>
<li>Boscha's depression results in symptoms like a hard time getting out of bed, lack of focus, lack of appetite, self-destructive thoughts, low self-esteem (which caused her to spiral into depression), headaches, and joint aches. Boscha suffers from ATYPICAL depression which means she's not always sad, can have bursts of interest and energy when something good happens, sleepiness, and sensitivity to rejection.</li>
</ul>
</li>
<li>Speaking of epilogue: Willow is not in love, but she thinks she could fall in love and isn't opposed to the idea. Boscha's not in love either (but heavily crushing). Boscha's scared of her crush because she thinks that it is probably the wrongest development of her emotions- she never thought Willow would ever give her a chance. She was wrong obviously and I think after seeing all the work Boscha put into herself, that this is a healthy start at a relationship!</li>
<li>Frequently listen to mood music: music box cover of: goodbye to a world, into the light (splatoon) remix by kamex, almost anything rush garcia but specifically hot milk, httyd, and violet expressions. Go check these out, they're so peaceful</li>
</ul><p>
  <span class="u">What was the starting idea for this fic?</span>
</p><p>Literally a drawing I made. I drew ship art. I tried to think of why these two would reconcile and thought of the idea of Boscha giving Willow a flower in apology. It steamrolled from there. I had an intense desire to right some moral wrongs I feel in regard to the ship. I think the idea could be great, but not in its present state. No one should really date someone who abused them- that's so toxic. However, people can change and I want to think that someone who bullied another could grow enough to try to right their wrongs. This is an idealized outcome in the end, but I guess I'm just a romantic. This is very much a character study on reasons why Boscha acts so terrible- I see so many fics where she's just a mean girl and I wanted to think about why. We know why Amity was mean, but we have nothing on Boscha. I started this thinking about romance and it turned into a story of personal growth where romance barely fit in until the end and in all honesty, I could've left out the ship and leave it at friends feeling just as satisfied. </p><p>When I was 12, my sister was ruthlessly bullied by "friends" and others after a very bad (and kind of toxic) boyfriend. She fell severely depressed and attempted suicide twice (an overdose and injuries to her wrist). I found her bleeding out in her bedroom and was the one to call the ambulance. One of my best friends also overdosed (I don't think on purpose) when she was depressed. So, yes, I've never been depressed myself but I have been up close and personal with it. They are both better now and leading happier lives. This story ended up very therapeutic for me to go at depression and bullying from the bully's perspective. It helps move on from the anger I've felt at people who hurt others like my sister by trying to think about why they did it. It doesn't excuse it, but it helps me move on.</p><p>Depression and mental health have weird representation in media, and I wanted something more real. There are people struggling who deserve to see an accurate representation of their mental health difficulties and be shown a happy ending. Not everyone cuts, not everyone is suicidal, depression isn't cured by love, and most people think that it's all their fault and that they don't deserve help. Well, everyone should love themselves. I sought out to envoke emotion and thinking and I figured if this could help even one person then I did my job. So to everyone who commented and kudoed and subscribed, thank you for looking at my writing and giving this untraditional piece a chance! I've loved reading all your comments. If you are in a bad place, I hope this provided some comfort for you! Remember to look for help and keep on working through it. It'll be ok. You'll get your sunny day again!</p><p>Kind regard,</p><p>WordPainter</p><p> </p><p>P.S: any future questions will be answered in their comment and reflected in the post-production chapter</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <strong>ART!!</strong> </span>
</p><p>(If anyone does any sort of fanwork in the future I will love you forever and also post links/ pics here. Tag my art account on insta @artz_vi or link in comments. I will make a new chapter for art if I get more/make more. I have sketches I want to do, but I'm lacking time rn)</p><p>
  
</p><p>Sketchy and hastily colored, but the thing that started it all! Also my default Boscha is grudgby Boscha- jacket&gt;cowl</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Surprise...</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>For all the people who came for Boschlow and got trapped into self-growth and emotional agnst</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>"Honey, without all the exes, fights, and flaws'</em>
</p><p>
  <em>We wouldn't be standing here so tall, so"</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<p></p><div class="ujudUb xpdxpnd">
  <p>
    
  </p>
</div><div class="ujudUb xpdxpnd">
  <p>
    <em>"Kiss me once 'cause I know you had a long night</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>(Oh!) Kiss you twice 'cause it's gonna be alright</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>Three times 'cause you waited your whole life</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>(One, two, one two three four!)"</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="ujudUb xpdxpnd">
  <p>  </p>
</div><div class="ujudUb xpdxpnd">
  <p>
    <em>"I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>Uh huh, that's right</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>Darling, you're the one I want, and"</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>  </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em><br/>
"I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>Uh huh, that's right</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>Darling, you're the one I want, and</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>Paper rings and picture frames and all my dreams</em>
  </p>
  <p><em>You're the one I want</em> <em>"</em></p>
  <p>
    <em>  </em>
  </p>
</div><div class="ujudUb xpdxpnd">
  <p><em>    ~ </em>Paper Rings<em>, Taylor Swift`</em></p>
</div><div class="ujudUb xpdxpnd">
  <p> </p>
  <p>Announcing: Paper Rings</p>
</div><div class="ujudUb xpdxpnd">
  <p>A sequel to Jackal's Ladder</p>
</div><div class="ujudUb xpdxpnd">
  <p>Coming Soon...</p>
</div><div class="ujudUb xpdxpnd">
  <p> </p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Jackal's Ladder's 1 month anniversary announces the story that brings will follow Boschlow through four seasons over four years. The plot idea, you can probably guess its ending, but it is time to give these two a happily ever after</p><p>(I'll probably delete this notice once I drop Paper Rings, but idk I like the sketches)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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